Caged
by Genesis-Echo
Summary: Libby Elizabeth Carter is the daughter of a witch and a werewolf. Her father was abusive and became worse after Libby's mother died. He turned Libby into a wolf to continue her torture. That is when she snapped. She has recently become an orphan and after deciding her fate has now entered the Aspen Creek Pack. Like most werewolves she is damaged and dangerous. Currently on Hold
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

I will have different version of this story up in a different scenario so if you recognize the main female (Elizabeth Carter AKA Libby) that's the reason.  
This isn't going to be a love story between Bran and an OC. In fact I'm not even sure this will have any romance in it. *shrug* I haven't really decided

* * *

The surrounding world was beginning to become dull, feelings were numbed, and soon she became the mindless killer. The man was nearing her; she was cornered, but no longer afraid. He had magic, and started to cast a spell that would leave her unable to retaliate.

His spell started to surround her, but the magic slid off, and she was unaffected.

He hadn't seen what was coming.

She didn't have any weapons at hand, only the inhuman strength that he had given her just for his own pleasure. He was bigger, stronger, and more powerful, but surprise was on her side.

She stayed perfectly still, waiting for him to get closer.

He reached out, probably to touch her face, like he usually did. She took his wrist twisting it until she heard it crack and pop, a kick followed to the gut, and with the same leg, she brought up her knee and used her other hand to slam his face down.

He fell backwards, nose broken, arm useless, but her attack wasn't finished.

Her eyes were a fierce yellow, her finger nails grew into claws. His eyes snapped to hers, also the bright yellow glow that she had. He growled, rage building.

"Sit." He ordered, their eyes locking. It was a different type of magic than what he used before. It touched her, but it held no strength.

"Die." She said her tone bland, like a robot. She reached down tearing out his throat.

* * *

Bran Cornick arrived in time to see the man at the door get taken down. The windows of the house were shattered, the front door long torn down. A few men were lying in the yard, they smelled of death. The girl stood on the man, soaked in blood; her eyes were a bright yellow. She stared into Bran's eyes, her face like a mask, and her emotions hidden by blood and death.

The man she used as a rug was still alive, but he stayed perfectly still recognizing that his hope had finally arrived.

Bran waited for the girl to submit. She looked no older than thirteen or fourteen. She had short, uneven, black hair, her pale skin hidden by the blood that stained it. She bared teeth at him and snarled, displeased with the challenge she was losing. Bran curled his lip, and she looked down, growling.

"Elizabeth Carter," Bran said using her name to enforce the command to come, "Come to me."

She obeyed, taking on heavy step after the other. Even with the wind in his favor, Bran still couldn't smell her emotions. Usually werewolves that went on such killing spree scented of bloodlust and rage.

She stopped just a few footsteps away, staring at Bran's chest. Her eyes slowly dulled from yellow to a golden green, and finally to a soft pear green. She started to shake, the wolf losing command faster than Bran had expected possible. Tears started rolling down her face but she made no sound.

"Take me away," She whispered, her throat rough, mangled by her falling tears.

_Please do not blame the wolf; she was the one that tried to stop me._

Bran froze. The thought had come from her. Bran wasn't able to read people's mind, he had lost that ability once he became a werewolf. Instinctively he pulled her into him, embracing her; he had known this sorrow for himself. Was she a berserker like he?

The man who she had stepped on now stood, head bowed, he avoided looking at either of them. He was checking fallen comrades, searching for anyone else outside who had survived.

Bran ushered the girl to his car, he had left the door open in his rush. He placed her so she couldn't view her work. He crouched in front of her, looking at her intently. She had her eyes squeezed shut.

"Will you be alright to stay here?" Bran asked, searching her face. Numbly, rigidly, she nodded her head.

Samuel would be coming; Bran knew that there would be casualties.

He entered the house; there were a few more dead lying about. The first floor was in wreckage, anything possible used as a weapon. Further search he found some living, huddled together in fear, submissives.

"Are any of you hurt?" He asked his voice soothing. They all shook their heads, "Please go outside. Help where you can, but don't get in the way." He had heard Samuel's car approached.

He went downstairs first; he could hear some noise from below, and nothing above. There were severely wounded, some he carried upstairs, Samuel had been making his way down from upstairs, carrying two female wolves. Their wounds hadn't come from the girl. They made several trips into the house, and one last to get a look at the dead to get a good estimation of what had happened. They would get a better story of what happened from the survivors.

"I don't like this one bit, that girl couldn't have killed all those werewolves," Samuel said watching as more help arrived, the rest of the wolf pack that had been lucky enough to be busy elsewhere.

Bran shook his head, he wasn't so sure either, his eyes on back of the girl's head.

"Should I take a look at her?" Samuel asked following his father's gaze.

"Let's wait," Bran replied he started towards the surviving wolves. Some men comforted female mates; the females without mates seemed fine with one another.

"I need to know what happened, and not just from today, what has led up to this event." Bran commanded without really commanding.

"It was the alpha." Replied one of the females, she seemed strong but still a bit beaten down. "He went crazy one day. He started killing some of us, than locking others. He came with two witches, a male and a female; he took the female as a mate. The witch had a child." He eyes flicked to the girl, she smelled of fear, "I'm not sure what happened, the female witch died, and the male and the alpha, they got worse. They took turns." She paled, and was unable to continue.

"The alpha had somehow gained magic from the male witch; he would use it on us. Silence us, or make us black out." A male had picked up the story, and sneered, "He was her dad and he treated her worse than scum. I'm surprised she's alive. If only the witch bastard had died, but he had escaped once the alpha had died."

Bran raised an eyebrow, "So then, she killed and hurt you all by herself?"

"I assure you we couldn't put on much of a fight," He shuddered, "We were already beaten down, and then she took us by surprise."

Samuel suppressed a growl.

Bran sighed, "I'll need more details, later though, for now rest."

The girl was leaning against the seat, she looked a lot more relaxed now, as if she were about to fall asleep.

"Elizabeth," Bran called, his voice soft, her eyes slowly opened, "Are you okay with my son, Samuel, looking you over?"

She seemed a bit lifeless. She looked like she was in shock.

"He is a doctor." Bran continued, she closed her eyes again. She seemed so fragile.

_I think I was shot, it burns like sliver._

Once again her thought had come to Bran from her. He looked to Samuel, but he seemed to have been left out. He looked back at the girl. She peeled her blood soaked shirt from her abdomen, revealing the bullet wound. It was slow to heal, as sliver was.

She started to fall back on the car seats as she started to fall unconscious.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

okay so this is slightly shorter than the first chapter, and well the third chapter will be of Libby's past and of all the crazy events she saw/went through... umm don't worry it'll be subtle, and not as bad as you expect (cuz I'm going to skip over a lot and put in the information that will be important further on)

* * *

The numbness that had protected Libby was gone when she woke, making her feel vulnerable. It was only the reminder that her wolf was there that kept her from curling into herself. Not that could be an option when even breathing set her stomach aflame with pain. She was healing, but slowly.

The faint rumble of voices started to become clearer the longer Libby concentrated on them.

"Thank you from coming Sam," Someone had said their voice just barely familiar to Libby.

"Honestly this is all worse than I'd imagined it." A different, but slightly similar in the way they pronounced their words, replied with an exhausted sigh.

Apparently, from what Libby could tell, they came from the room next to the one she was in. She also realized that she was clean; she no longer wore her ragged clothing. She smelt of soap, nice clean soap. Her hair smelled nice, and felt softer than she thought possible. Being imprisoned in that room for three weeks had felt like an eternity.

She wondered if someone had fixed her messy haircut, it felt even as she ran her fingers threw her short hair. Libby managed to get up from the bed, clutching her healing stomach as she stood and walked to the door. By the time she got the door opened, she felt the need to lie back down.

"It'd be best if you stay in your bed until you heal," The commanding tone came from in front of her, Libby's vision was slightly blurred but she managed to make out two men. They had some similar features, like brothers, one was taller, more muscular with long features, brown hair, blue eyes, and a serious set expression. The other seemed a bit nonchalant, carefree, he had sandy blond hair and hazel, and although he didn't seem as intimidating by his movement something told Libby that he was more of a danger.

Libby bobbed her head, staring down at their shoes. The taller man helped escort her back to the bed.

"You'll need to eat," He stated, helping her lie back.

Libby groaned, "I thought werewolves had super healing powers." She glanced between the two, "Can I ask who you guys are?"

They glanced at one another, eyebrows raising, "You don't know who we are?" The taller man asked.

Libby shook her head, "How am I supposed to? I…"

She paled, events from the past 24 hours replaying in her mind. The two shot another look at one another.

"I did something bad…" She said closing her eyes, she felt sick. Mostly because the urge to kill and hunt came from the wolf, but whatever had happened hadn't been because of the wolf. It was because of her, or some part of her, that was a complete monster. She could hear it in the back of her mind, claiming to protect her. She immediately shut it down, and all thoughts concerning yesterday.

"Elizabeth," The shorter man started, Libby cringed.

"Please don't call me that," She whispered, "Please just call me Libby," Her wolf called her Little Libby, and she liked it better than 'Elizabeth', the name that her father had given her.

"Libby…" He started, "I am Bran Cornick, I am the Marrok, and this is my son Samuel." He introduced, his tone soft and calm, "We came because we were contact of what happened…"

Libby cringed again, wishing that this conversation would end right now.

"Because I killed all those…people, does that mean that I'm going to die to?" She stared up with frightened eyes, she smelled faintly of fear and anxiety.

"I don't think we'll have to, but we do need to clear up what has happened, to ensure your safety and the safety of the other wolves that survived." Bran informed, trying his best to give the child a little hope for life.

"…So there weren't any survivors?" She asked, her voice a weak whisper.

"There were survivors," Samuel stated, another wary glance towards Bran, "But we would like your input."

Libby shook her head, "That's not…I can't… remember anything but fear and death, I can't really say much about it…" She really didn't want to have remember and retell the events, not if she didn't have to. An idea clicked in her head. She didn't have to tell, but she would have to remember.

Every since she could remember Libby was able to read the thoughts of others, and send her thoughts to them. She tended not to; because of the abuse she went through and heard of certain people's thoughts. It was her secret that she rarely let anyone in on. Then one day, a few months after her mother's death, her father had turned her into a werewolf. She wasn't able to read another's thoughts as easy, but with much concentration she could do it, and sending her thoughts was just as hard.

She brushed Bran's mind, it was easier to reach his than Samuel's. _Do you really need me to tell? _She sent the thought, eyes flickering in between the two. Samuel was checking her stomach wound, and replacing the bandages with clean ones.

Bran's eyes locked on her face; he had gotten the message.

_I can send you some memories, but they will be mine and won't be what happened exactly_, she glanced at the wall to her right, avoiding his intense stare.

_That would help yes._

Libby froze, she hadn't pried into his mind to read his thoughts, but she was sure that it had come from Bran. She turned to stare at him, eyes wide and heart racing. Did he have the same ability as her?

"Get some more rest, I'll send some food in," Samuel said, breaking the silence that Libby hadn't even noticed.

Samuel left quickly, while Bran took his place next to the bed.

"If you help me, than I can ensure that you will not need to die," From the tightness in his eyes Libby could tell that he had no desire for any more death in his life.

Libby swallowed the lump in her throat, "I can't show you much. I have so little I understand…"

"Anything is better than nothing." He insisted.

Libby took a small breath, it was the best she could do with the aching pain of her wound. She shut her eyes concentrating, and remembering. She linked herself to Bran's mind, letting him in on almost all of her thoughts except the ones she locked tightly away.

She gasped as she could also sense his mind, but stopped and focused on her memories, she needed to show him her memories not his own.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

so yeah short...but then again it's been consistent size to the others i guess haha. Sorry for the slow updates and thanks so much for the reviews ;3; it really helps. I'm working on another fanfic for Mercy Thompson series, this one is actually located in the Tri Cities so Mercy is in it. I hope you look forward to that, cuz i think its taking more of my attention than this...

I'll be working on chapter 4 though :D hopefully longer, maybe, cuz sometimes longer isn't always better ;D thanks for reading~

* * *

Bran had never experienced something like this. He felt her emotions, as well as saw through her eyes.

She was younger than she was now, around 6 or 7; she was in background hiding when she would've been playing. The two were arguing, her mother and her uncle. Her mother was beautiful, long silky black hair, porcelain skin, but coal grey eyes. They were fighting about magic, right and wrong.

From what Bran could understand from what he was seeing her uncle was staring to use black magic.

The werewolf alpha, her father, stepped in, siding with her uncle. Her mother looked hurt that her mate would side with a witch using black magic. Her mother turned to her uncle and started yelling, accusing him of doing something horribly wrong. Her father came to her, forcing her to go back to her room. He wasn't gentle, and had left bruises on her arm. He had yelled at her, but he had never harmed her, not enough to leave bruises.

Around age 8, her mother was dead now. Her uncle was scarier than her dad. He gave of a sickening feeling and she didn't ever want to go near him if she didn't have to. Her dad was more violent, doing things that she didn't understand, and wished she still didn't. Fear, sorrow, and confusion, over powered her day to day.

Age 10, her uncle suggested to her father that it would be best to turn her into a werewolf and make her join the pack. He had done it on a full moon, and he hadn't been careful. She had actually thought she was about to die. After the change she found her telepathic powers to be limited, but still accessible. She would only use them with neighborhood pets, before, her only friends.

Now she had a wolf, and she was the kindest, bestest friend she could have. She was gentle and protected her whenever her uncle or father decided she needed to be beaten down.

Age 12, she knew it was wrong what was happening to her, and now to other wolves in the pack. She couldn't do anything though; her wolf couldn't protect their minds. She also knew that her father was only a puppet to her uncle. It helped sometimes, but others it made her sick. She hated them both. Hated them so much, that sometimes she couldn't even feel fear.

Age 15, it was before Bran's appearance, early in the morning. Her third week being locked up. Her wolf was trying to warn her, but she wasn't paying attention, she was giving up. She started to lose feelings, a numbness slowly taking over pushing the wolf aside. It was taking it's time though, but each passing second it grew stronger locking away her heart. She accept it, as she had given up, there was no point to life if she didn't have hope.

The bolts on the door were coming undone. It was time. Who would it be, the man that claimed to be her father or the puppeteer?

Bran was suddenly shut out. He blinked in surprised, staring down at Libby. She was drenched in sweat, she stank of fear, and her chest heaved as if she had just run several miles. She was staring at Bran with molten yellow eyes.

"That is a memory that you can guess," She growled, Bran cocked his head, listening as it was the wolf. "You have seen enough, more than enough."

Bran nodded his head, "Yes, rest, heal, I will not ask anymore for now." Libby lower her gaze, bowing her head as best she could to show respect.

Bran left the room, realizing he was upset. Her torture was something that could've been avoided. If he had paid more attention… no he couldn't blame himself, though it was hard not to. He sighed once he had closed the door behind him. Samuel was waiting at the end of the hall for him. They were currently using the house that had belonged the second in command of the pack. He was dead now.

"Da?" Samuel stared at Bran with concerned eyes.

"Witches are never good news." He stated heading into the media room of the house. He would think in there, come up with a plan.

"Should we get Charles and Anna in on this?" Samuel asked following him into the room, but he didn't sit down when Bran flopped down on the sofa.

"Maybe, let me think." Bran said with the wave of his hand.

Samuel shrugged retreating into the kitchen. Everything was well stocked, socked enough to feed about three hungry werewolves maybe four.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

* * *

Libby woke, tears in her eyes. She had given up on life, but now she wasn't sure.

_Don't give up dearest Little Libby,_ The wolf replied to her thoughts with gentle comfort. Libby curled into that comfort, realizing that her stomach didn't ach as much anymore. However she was extremely hungry. The salvia inducing scents coming from outside the room didn't help. Steaks, baked potatoes, and mixed steamed vegetables.

_I trust these men mean no harm, but they are dangerous,_ her wolf informed a bit reluctantly.

Libby nodded her head, slipping out of the bed. She wore the type of gown that was common at a hospital. She did her best to remain calm and stop herself from thinking unnecessary thoughts. There was a cabinet drilled into the wall across from her bed, and inside were clothes, charcoal grey sweatpants and white t-shirts.

She slipped the pants on first, using the string around the waist to tighten it so they wouldn't fall down. She put the shirt on after seeing her stomach, it was still wrapped but there wasn't any blood staining the wrappings.

She followed her nose and her ears to locate the two men, who were in the dining room eating. There was a plate set aside for her. She avoided their stares as she sat down, and immediately started eating. She couldn't ever had imagined so a delicious meal. She was on her third helpings of everything by the time she realized that they were talking.

"I would like to settle this quickly, however I have to go back home before the full moon." Bran said setting aside his plate.

Samuel set his empty plate on his father's. "Do you want me to stay?" He looked exhausted, physically and mentally. Libby stopped herself from exerting extra energy to peek inside his mind.

"No, you should go on back to the Tri-Cities." Bran responded, he noticed Libby's stare and gave her a small smile.

Libby continued to stare, her expression a confused scowl. "Isn't the big problem over with here?" She asked after swallowing any remaining food in her mouth.

"Vincent, your uncle, is still alive, and I can't be sure of his intentions but with the pack so weak if he came back, no one would be safe."

Libby paled, "I don't think he'll come back… at least if I don't stay here…"

Samuel quirked an eyebrow, was she being a bit arrogant or did she know something they didn't.

_He sees me as his creation…at least that's how he always treated me… _She sent to Bran, staring at her plate.

"We can't be too sure… I will send someone to help out with things here." Bran informed with a slight nod of his head.

Libby lifted her head, "So I can come with you?"

Bran smiled, _Yes you will come with me, where it is safe._

Libby touched her cheeks, realizing she was crying. "Thank you."

* * *

Guys, i'm sorry to say but i'm in a slump! I don't know why i struggled to write this (pretty much since i finished chapter 3 which i struggled through) ;3; i even know what direction i'm heading towards. But don't worry! i'll do it! and i'll get it done! and it'll be good!


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer:** I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

* * *

After making a few calls, Bran watched Samuel's red Mercedes disappear into the distance before he turned to Libby. She was sitting on the steps, she had Bran's coat around her shoulders. She looked so frail, so small…

"Do you need to get anything before we go?"

Libby shook her head, "I don't have anything…" Bran nodded his head, understanding in a way he thought he wouldn't ever be able to.

_Distance is best, for now…_ He reminded himself before walking towards his own car.

Bran held the passenger door open for her; he had done it without thought, not realizing it until he was closing the door for Libby. She was still fumbling with the seat buckle when Bran was sitting down in the driver's seat. By the time he started the car she finally managed to get the satisfying click of the seatbelt locking in place.

The drive wasn't that long, however this time Bran wasn't speeding so it would take a few hours longer. It was a good thing that he had broken the law to get to Twin Falls Idaho, if Bran had taken any longer… who knows if Libby would've stopped with her attack on werewolves.

She turned to look out the door window, pulling her legs up to her chest. She pulled the coat tighter around herself.

Bran drove in silence, thinking everything over carefully, while Libby mostly dosed in her seat. Occasionally she woke startled, looking around with wild eyes before settling back down.

"We'll be there in about twenty minutes," Bran informed when she once again woke fully alert. She eased back in her seat, a light blush coloring her cheeks. Bran was welcomed by the familiar road, making it easier for himself to relax as he drove on.

Libby twisted in her seat to get a good luck of the land they had already passed. Bran glanced in the rearview mirror. Bran glanced at her once she settled back, she was scowling.

"Maybe I should've stayed…" She mumbled with her own glance in Bran's direction.

"What's wrong?" Bran asked, before she had seemed so happy to leave.

Libby shook her head, unwilling to answer or at least tell force out a lie.

Several minutes passed as did the road, taking most of Libby's attention with the change in scenery as they entered Aspen Creek.

Bran settled the cat in the garage, "This is my home," He informed, taking note that Leah was also home. It was about three PM, just in time for a late lunch. Libby's stomach was making it's protests at the lack of food they had on the road. If Bran had thought that she would be so hungry he would've stopped and gotten something to eat…

Libby eased out the car, her eyes taking in the simple garage, she used her nose. Bran smiled, leading the way up, and out of the basement to the first floor.

Leah occupied the living room; she acted as if she were absorbed in the book on her lap. Libby looked around, taking in the dining room, than the living room till her eyes stopped on Leah. Libby took in Leah's long dark blond hair, almost fingering her short black hair.

Leah glanced over her shoulder at them, her stare sharp and directed at Libby. Their eyes didn't lock, there was no need for an unnecessary challenge. Leah's eyes went to Bran, seeming to say _'you brought back a child…'_ Libby took a step closer to Bran.

_She doesn't like me…_ Bran almost laughed.

* * *

Libby wanted to run far away. This woman was obviously Bran's mate; they shared some bond that was easy to smell. She wasn't the least bit pleased with Libby's presence. Libby glanced several times at Bran, he seemed amused by something.

"I'm going out." The woman said, giving off a thick scent of displeasure as she grabbed her coat and left through the front door. Libby flinched as the door slammed shut.

"Don't worry, she's almost always like that." Bran said, was he trying to reassure her with that? Libby sighed. "I'll make something to eat." He said probably hearing her stomach growl for the thousandth time.

She crossed the living room, peeking out the window. Bran's mate was pulling out the garage, in the gray Lexus that had been in the garage. Libby was about to peek inside her mind, before she left the road, however the sudden invasion in her mind sent her backwards to the floor.

_You are mine._

Libby was overcome with rage, fear, and the strongest urge to flee.

* * *

Soooo the plot thickens? lol Well happy father's day! um yeah, so the past like four-five days my allergies got real bad (i get spring time allergies and well everyone was mowing their law these past four-five days) and well today i am finally able to breath from my nose, and not have the dying urge to gorge out my eyes. All the more to celebrate haha i hope you enjoyed this chapter (more towards the end with the pathetic cliffhanger) but don't worry i will update it soon since i am somewhat on a roll (and Wednesday the 20th is my birthday so you can expect a chapter by then most definitely!)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:** I made this fanfic for my own pleasure, my characters belong to me and my story idea but other characters belong to Patricia Briggs as well as most of the world my characters are in. And because I'm not Patricia Briggs her characters will not be so accurate, sorry but only she can perfect her characters.

* * *

The wolf easily took over, doing her best to calm Libby, she stood and raised a hand to Bran who had quickly came back to check on her. Obviously he hadn't heard her uncle's voice.

"I need to shift." The wolf said, it would be easier for her to protect Libby and most likely prevent the same incident happening twice. She shed the coat, and started to shift as she tore the cheap clothing.

Shifting from human to wolf and vice versa wasn't easy or beautiful. Bran had left during the beginning of it, continuing cooking chicken pasta. He was finished by the time she was done shifting, she lie on Bran's coat, panting.

Libby's wolf form was defiantly small as Bran had expected. She had sandy brown coloring, and her paws, tails and ears were tipped with a smoky black. Her face was also covered in a smoky black mask. She eyed Bran with alert golden green eyes. She knew she was safe with him, however, could he protect himself from a witch? Especially one with stronger abilities than Libby had, he could bombard the mind and make you powerless.

Bran sat at the dining table, setting a large plate with a heaping helping of pasta on the floor next to his chair.

"You need to eat," Part of it held a command with it, causing Libby to stand up from the floor and walk over to him faster than she would have, though she took her time still weak from the change.

The first two bites were less than a struggle, Libby's wolf wasn't all the pleased with the meal, but she wouldn't go to waste. When had she ever gotten a huge helping of food? When would she ever get the chance to try chicken pasta? The only real chance Libby ever got was on full moons, when her father had to pull the pack together for the change so that the humans wouldn't find them out.

_I need to tell him…_ Libby thought as she licked her lips, if he went hunting with his pack, and was suddenly attacked… She shut down the thought quickly; she could worry about that at another time.

Bran stared at Libby as she ate, wondering why she had shifted. What had made her afraid so suddenly? When she finished she started glancing at him, licking her lips.

"What? Do you want more?" He asked with an amused grin. The sandy brown wolf lowered her eyes, apparently not so amused. Bran shrugged, picking up her plate as well as his own.

She followed him into the kitchen, pacing as he washed the dishes.

_The…witch… he will come…for me._ The thought came, Bran almost missed it, and it was a bit faint. He wondered if he would get used to Libby's ability.

"You don't need to worry too much, he can't do much." Bran hoped, most witches that used dark magic were powerful but how many could take on Bran? Charles was also here…

_He… can do enough…_

Bran glanced as Libby was staring out towards the living room. Had the witch done something to frighten her? He dried off his hands.

"Do not worry," He hated to command her, make her go against her own will, but he didn't want to see her so troubled over it all. Libby stiffened, but she lowered her head, glancing around the kitchen.

* * *

ugh sorry for the shortness, but well i promised to get this out by Wednesday, but i was distracted, than Thursday i burnt my hand...so today i was just barely able to finish what i had already typed... x.x sorry! I hope to pick up my pace some!


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